


Four Dreams

by Occula



Category: U2
Genre: Dreaming, Dreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 23:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occula/pseuds/Occula
Summary: Each of our guys describes a dream he had.





	Four Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ 8/3/04.

**Bono:**

Larry and I are in the Congo. We must be in Medecins Sans Frontieres. A long line of people stretches from our clinic across the clearing and into the forest. But that’s good, the more the better, because we have a shot and a pill for everybody. The pill ends malnourishment and the shot cures or prevents HIV/AIDS. Larry gives everyone their shot and I give them each their pill, then they leave. Finally the last woman and baby come through the line and I realize. That’s everyone. We’ve done it. The nightmare is over, for these people and for me. I’ve never felt happier. Larry and I sit on the porch and put our feet on the railing. He has a white doctor’s coat on. His hair is perfect in the heat. He’s given his earrings to a poor woman. He looks as peaceful and relaxed as I feel. He moves closer and sits leaning against me, smoking a cigarette. I’m happy all through and this is the crown of the day. I put my arm around his shoulders. I look at the hollows of his cheeks, the lovable twist of his smiling mouth, and his dazzling eyes. In dreams all things are possible. I know that when tomorrow’s sun rises we’ll fly out of here with our own wings and this building will fall and the healthy jungle will reclaim the clearing. I hear a song, full and rich, from everywhere, from the earth and sky, from the stones and water. A continent is singing.

 

**Edge:**

In the dream version, I was a good husband and father. When Aislinn told me to stay the hell away from her bed and her children, it was shocking and completely unprovoked. I lay in the street, empty. I fell asleep in the street and woke in bed in one of the endless hotels I’ve known in my life. I woke up with warmth beside me and a familiar, beloved scent, sweat smoke leather cedar beer Bono. We kissed for what seemed like a very long time. And finally, at last, he made love to me, and there was no effort and no pain. I realized this was the most natural combination in the world and nobody would ever come between us again. It was gentle and somehow delicate. I told him I’d love him my whole life, just as I had already loved him from the time I’d met him. “I know,” he said.

 

**Adam:**

I was at some kind of bash. A woman tried to come on to me, but I turned away. Some guy, maybe David Bowie, handed me a drink. It was alcohol, so I just held it in my hand. After a while I happened to turn and Edge was staring at me and the bottle I now held in my hand. I tried to tell him I was only holding it to be polite. He took it from me and put it under a chair. He still stared at me, unsmiling. He pushed me so I took a step back, repeatedly, push-step, push-step, until I was against a wall. Then he stepped forward and rubbed his nose against mine. We were both smiling now. He lifted the palm of his hand to my cheek. Everything felt better than all the times I’d imagined it. I wanted to warn him of something that I knew; I foresaw that through the years he’d always see me in the wrong circumstances, on the verge of a terrible mistake. I would somehow disappoint him again and again. But I loved him. I never wanted to let him go.

 

**Larry:**

When we took a break, one morning at the studio, Bono and Edge put their arms around one another and walked out, giggling and chatting. Adam was standing in a dark corner, still wearing his bass. I knew his heart was breaking, for he was desperately in love with Edge and Edge didn’t know it. But I knew exactly how Adam felt, because Adam was an iceberg and my heart was a ship. I crashed and I sank. My heart froze and shattered, and he didn’t know. I looked down and my ride cymbal was cracked and dirty; _all_ the cymbals were rusty and old. I didn’t know how I was supposed to accomplish anything. I picked up my drums and put them into a surprisingly small bag; it didn’t weigh anything. I carried the bag out onto the quay and threw it into the river. I turned away from that rippling water and Adam was watching me, shocked. “Your drums,” he said, frightened. “I don’t want them,” I said. “I don’t want anything anymore.”


End file.
